


somewhere in between together

by earlymorningechoes



Series: esther hawke: ringing joyful and triumphant [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Gift Giving, Living Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7911127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlymorningechoes/pseuds/earlymorningechoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I want to be where your heart is home.</i> Hightown doesn't feel very welcoming, but Esther and Merrill won't let that stop them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere in between together

    Hightown looks clean when it rains, is one of the first things she notices after she moves - there aren’t dead rats in the water here, and the stones are shiny instead of covered with muddy dust. The sky is the same heavy slate gray as it is everywhere else, but even that manages to look nicer somehow. It’s disquieting, as if the city itself is trying to tell her she doesn’t belong, and her footsteps fall a little heavier as she pushes open the front door to the Hawke Estate.

    “Merrill!” she hears, followed by the thudding of Esther’s feet on the stairs, uneven as usual as she tries to pull her boots on while still walking. “Let’s go!” She’s already pulling the door open, grabbing her oilskin jacket to keep off the rain, before she realizes that Merrill hasn’t quite followed her.

    “What’s wrong, vhenan?” she asks, her full attention immediately shifting in the way that always makes Merrill feel more loved than she ever remembers. Her pronunciation of the only Elvish word she knows is a little off, but that, too, reminds Merrill that this is someone who cares deeply about how she’s feeling. Still, she shakes her head and tries to put on a smile that will fool Esther’s eagle eyes (she knows she fails immediately, but she doesn’t stop).

    “I must just be a bit tired, I’m sorry. Where are we going? Should I grab anything? I haven’t seen anyone else today, I wonder if they all stayed inside because of the rain...I’m babbling again.” She stops talking abruptly, looking expectantly at Esther, but it’s several moments of her narrow-eyed gaze before she explains.

    “Just to the Hanged Man. Varric’s got some sort of storytelling contest going on, and he wants us to be there.” She pulls on the oilskin jacket, tying her hair up under the hood and offering a hand to Merrill, who takes it uncertainly. Maybe spending time with their friends in Lowtown will help her work out what exactly is bothering her.

\-------------

    There’s not enough  _ green _ , she realizes abruptly, or maybe bright red like the aravels - in the alienage there was at least the vhenadahl, all brightly painted and with candles all around. Hightown is all gray stone, buildings and statues and even some of the people seem to be made out of the stuff, the few trees stunted and unhappy. She misses being able to smell the grass and caress the flowers, reminded every day of the wholeness and beauty of nature around her, the world full of color and song.

    As she hurries through the market district, still marveling at the sheer variety of the things the shops sell, she tries to formulate a way to explain what’s wrong to Esther. She has so many words all the time - words enough to annoy everyone  _ but _ Esther - but never at times like this, when she needs them. And so, when she reaches the doors of the estate, she heaves a sigh, deciding to keep her realization to herself just a little longer.

    But when she opens the door and heads into the foyer, Sandal is suddenly crowing “Mistress Merrill!” with even more joy than usual, and Esther is coming down dressed in her oldest clothes and covered in dirt, and Merrill suddenly can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening. She lets Esther grab her hand and pull her up the stairs to their bedroom, and she’s met with such an explosion of color that she has to blink several times before her eyes focus.

    Bright red cloth of almost the same color as the aravels has been tacked to the wall opposite the windows, draped in such a way that the light plays off its folds and forms patterns on the floor. And on every surface there’s plants - in vases, hanging in bunches from the ceiling, in any way she can think of. There’s elfroot and embrium, and dragonthorn and vandal aria, and a single daisy laying on her pillow. As she goes to pick it up, she feels tears welling in her eyes, and Esther leans in to kiss her cheek.

    “Ma serannas, vhenan,” she breathes, throwing her arms around Esther’s waist and squeezing hard. She hears Bodahn chuckle and close the door, and she tilts her head up to press a kiss to Esther’s lips.

    They fall together onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, and Esther wriggles out of her grubby clothes and pulls Merrill close. She cards her fingers through Merrill’s short hair as they lie there, a moment of peace.

    “How did you know?” Merrill asks eventually, tucking her head securely under Esther's chin. Esther squeezes her gently before answering.

    “You aren't happy, and you didn't want to tell me why,” she says bluntly, and Merrill winces - Esther notices everything, and she doesn't sugar-coat anything. “And I am happier with you here, with me. So I thought I'd change things up. I have to admit, it's nice - I feel less like the house disapproves of me,” she finishes wryly.

    Merrill giggles, feeling herself relax in the doubled comfort of the familiar surroundings and Esther's warm arms. “Thank you.”

\--------------

    A few weeks later, she's rummaging through the kitchen - she can never keep Bodahn’s organization system straight - when she comes across a pouch of incredibly familiar tea. Dalish-made, it's the kind they sell to shemlen when they need a bit of extra coin and don't drink themselves, but its sight sends competing waves of homesickness and happiness through her. Only Esther could've gotten the tea, and only from Master Ilen. She cradles it in both hands, a little piece of home in the sea of unknown that is Hightown, and heads back into the main room where Esther and Varric are nursing mugs of ale while trying to outdo each other with the most ridiculous story.

    “You got me tea!” she bursts out, interrupting Varric’s tale of griffons, high dragons, and a courageous nug. Esther takes a sip of her ale, her eyes dancing, and Merrill plows ahead.

    “When did you go to Sundermount without me? Or was I there and just didn't notice you talking to Master Ilen about the tea? I suppose that's possible, last time Isabela was asking so many questions to distract me anyways. But tea! You haven't opened it, I'll have to make you some. I know you've got the ale, but I'll go make it now, you'll love it!” She feels like she's floating as she heads back for the kitchen, searching for the kettle and teapot. Varric’s laughter floats in through the open door, and she thinks they've gone back to the heroic nug before she realizes they're talking about her.

    “Fancy Dalish tea, huh?” he asks, and she can hear his chair creak as he leans back. “Bet they asked more than strictly necessary, you being human and all.”

    Merrill can picture the exact shrug that Esther gives in response, but she isn't expecting the words that follow. “It's for Merrill. If it makes her happy, it's worth it.”

    They quickly move on (the nug is forgotten, in favor of Esther's tale of a haunted pirate ship), but Merrill mulls over the uncharacteristically serious words as she bustles around the kitchen. And when she brings out the tea and Esther kisses her hand, sweet and silly, she feels like her heart will burst.

\--------------

    It's another gray Hightown night a month or so later, and she’s hurrying through the Chantry courtyard on her way back to the estate when the heavens suddenly open and she’s immediately drenched to the bone. Sighing, she ducks her head and speeds up, imagining the warmth inside.

    Once she reaches the estate, she heads up to the bedroom, stripping wet pieces of clothing as soon as the door closes. Esther looks up from her place at the desk, grinning. “Enjoy your swim?”

    Merrill tries to glare, but she finds herself laughing instead, realizing she must look like a drowned Lowtown rat. Pulling her nightgown over her head, she drops onto the bed and looks around the room, a cheery fire crackling in the grate and playing shadows across the red cloth on the wall. “It’s good to be home,” she says, not realizing what she’s said until Esther turns around in her chair and gives her her full attention.

    “You sure about that?” she asks, cocking her head to one side. “Don’t want to move too fast, now, do you.” She stands as Merrill laughs again, something inside of her untwisting as Esther joins her on the bed. They lay back in each others’ arms, and Merrill’s nightgown is back off before her hair’s had time to dry.

    Later, Esther traces the shadows from the fire on Merrill’s skin and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Welcome home.”


End file.
